


Halo on Fire

by Dragonlove



Series: Got Riff [2]
Category: Metallica
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-02-16 01:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlove/pseuds/Dragonlove
Summary: Sequel to Got Riff - With the bat-shit crazy ex-husband out of the picture, things could be easier. Only they're not.





	1. One

_June 2016_

 

I'm just about to leave my desk for lunch as my phone rings. I wave at my colleagues to go ahead, before I answer it.  
"Hi," I say, trying to sound as neutral as possible while I close the office door behind the last of my curious co-workers.

"It's done. And it's the best fucking thing we've released in years."

I grin at James' enthusiasm. "Darling, I hate to break it to you, but it's the fucking * _only_ * thing you've released in years."

James' laugh thunders through my phone. "The Californian sun doesn't become you. You're getting sassier every day."

"Hey, it was your own idea I should apply for this job!" I grin.  
Truth be told, I'll be always grateful for that. Working for Tesla does not only mean that instead of half a world away I only live a thirty minutes-drive from James now, it has also freed me of the rules and regulations you have to deal with when working at University in Germany. That the wages have more than doubled for me, is another added bonus. But of course, it won't do to mention that to James now.

James chuckles. "True. Anyway, we're gonna celebrate this masterpiece. Come over tonight?"

"Do get to listen to that masterpiece? I won't believe it actually exists otherwise."

"Hell, no! Lars would kill me! But I've still got some pheasant in the freezer and we'll fire up the BBQ. How's that sound?"

I grin. "Disgusting!"

That earns me another booming laugh. "Alright, I'll hunt down some salad and vegetables for you, too."

It's been weeks since I've seen James and Fran and I already feel the butterflies in my stomach beginning to stir.

"See you in a bit, then," I smile.

 

I'm not able to hide my exceedingly good mood for the rest of the day, much to the amusement of my two closest co-workers. Ever since I started working in their team, Jessica and Glenn have been trying to get behind what they call "the secret of the mysterious lover".

As I start humming while working on a detail drawing of a valve, Jessica bursts out laughing. "Don't go drawing little hearts around that okay?"

Glenn flashes us a toothy grin. "As long as it's only hearts," he teases, wiggling his impressive eyebrows.

Heat creeps up my neck so I bow a little deeper over my drawing pad. "You're just being envious, both of you," I mumble, making them both laugh.

"I am, a bit," Jessica admits, "but I'm even more curious. Why won't you tell us who you're seeing?"

"Because it's much more entertaining to keep you guessing," I grin, even though that's only half the truth.

"I still believe it's the big boss himself," Glenn offers.

"And I keep telling you I never even met the man."

"I say he's married, that's why she can't talk about it," Jessica says, uncomfortably close to the truth.

"He's so fugly she doesn't even have his pic," Glenn grins and now it's my turn to burst out laughing.

 

Back home I get out the light blue skater dress I bought because the colour reminded me of James' eyes.  
I take a quick shower and refrain from blow-drying my hair to safe more time. If I keep the window rolled down on the way, the warm Californian wind will do the job just fine. I do take the time to thoroughly apply body lotion and a bit of perfume, though. Then I rummage through the drawer where I keep my sexy underwear for a light blue set of bra and panties, so sheer and delicate it’s not more than an enticing whisper against my skin.  
I slip on the dress and a pair of heeled strappy sandals and gather my hair in the usual high ponytail.  
As I wait for the lift I catch myself already humming to myself again.

 

Thirty-seven minutes later I park my car in front of the Hetfield mansion.

"Hey! Long time no see." James hugs me and holds me a bit longer and closer than strictly necessary. "God, I've missed you," he whispers, his lips softly brushing my ear.

I press a kiss to his cheek, whishing we were somewhere private so I could kiss him properly. His lips first, and then the rest of him.  
"I've missed you too."

He reluctantly releases me from his embrace as Marcella appears in the doorway. "Annika!" she shouts, already opening her arms for her own hug.

I smile. She's a sweet girl, not in the slightest aiming to be a 'cool' teenager, but rather enthusiastic in all that she does, like greeting guests. "Mom and I made some lemonade, you want some?" she asks, taking my hand and pulling me along into the house.

"Sure," I laugh and grin back at James over my shoulder.

James mimics a deep sigh, but he grins as he ambles in after us.

As we step into the large, airy kitchen, Fran is busy slicing onions. "Hey, darling," she beams at me. She lays the knife down and rounds the counter. "I can't give you a hug," she says, waving her onion-soiled hands, "come here." And she leans forward to peck me on the lips, making a point of holding her arms wide.

"Well, _I_ can hug _you_ ," I grin. "Clever," I whisper as I wrap my arms around her frame and she gives a short, smug hum in reply.

 

Marcella has already poured me a glass of homemade lemonade and hands it to me. "Sweetie, can you go and get me some parsley and cilantro, please?" Fran asks her daughter, nodding towards the kitchen garden.

Marcella nods and grabs the scissors form the counter.

 

"Have you shown Annika your newest car project yet?" Fran asks, watching her daughter disappear through the patio doors. When she's convinced, her youngest is out of earshot, she turns and raises an eyebrow at James and me. "I suggest you take the opportunity and do something about that sexual tension between the two of you before anyone else notices."

James cups her face in both his hands and gives her a long, deep kiss. "I don't deserve you."

Fran smiles and reaches for the knife again. "Get out. Oh, and Annika..."

I stop and turn.

"Do take the lemonade with you unless you want Marcella to bring it to you again."

 

James types in the security code and unlocks the car barn, which really is more of a showroom with at least ten highly polished customised vintage cars. Most of them I've seen already, but in the front row there's a 1951 wine red Ford Shoebox that's new to me.

"Wow, she's a real beauty."

James nods, his hands on my waist.  
"Remember when you said I'd wanted to fuck you in a car on stage?"

"I remember, yeah. And?"

He grins and lifts me onto the hood of the car. "Well, two out of three ain't bad."

"Seriously? I thought you just finished this..."

James hums out an affirmation and lifts my left foot to his shoulder. He plants a kiss on my ankle and unfastens the ankle-strap of my high-heeled sandal. As my shoe clatters to the floor he repeats the action on the other side.

"There," he says, steps between my legs and pulls me in for a deep kiss.

His hands glide up my thighs, underneath the skirt of my dress. His thumbs brush over my mound, the cloth between my legs already damp with my arousal. James inhales sharply and increases the pressure of his caress. His lips brush my cheek as he leans in to whisper into my ear. "Still as responsive as ever."

I sigh as his lips nibble at my ear, his thumbs still running up and down over my clit.  
"It's you," I confess shakily, "you have that effect on me. Little while ago I almost came simply from listening to your cover version of Loverman. I had to remove it from my playlist at work."

James laughs, little puffs of his breath tickling my neck and my face as he kisses his way from my ear to my lips. "Really? I must say I like that." He softly kisses my lips. "I like the thought of you sitting at your desk, getting all hot and bothered, unable to do something about it. But at least I'm able to help you now, and I like that even more."  
Again, he kisses me, his lips lingering now, his tongue teasing its way into my mouth.

With a quick motion he pushes my panties to the side and unzips his pants to free his cock. As he enters me with one smooth stroke we break our kiss to gasp for air and James leans his forehead against mine, staying perfectly still, buried deep inside me. I cup his face in both my hands and breathe in his quiet moan.  
We stay like that for a few shuddering breaths. "Fuck, I've really missed you," I pant and crash our mouths together again.

I can feel James laughing into our kiss and he wraps his arms around me to hold me tightly against his body as he starts moving inside me.  
I slip my arms under his so I can clutch his shoulders from behind, using the leverage to meet his every thrust.

The springs of the Ford start squeaking as James' thrusts become faster and rougher, both of us too desperate for release to take things any slower.

"God, yes," I pant, tightening my grip on his shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck to breathe in his scent as I feel the muscles in my core clench around his cock, my climax just out of reach but already inevitable. "Please, James..."

He grabs a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back to expose my neck and nibble on that delicate spot close behind my ear, his goatee scratching softly over my sensitive skin. I can feel my toes curl and it only takes one more deep thrust to push me into a powerful orgasm that triggers James' release, too.  
James bites my trapezius muscle to muffle his own loud moan as he comes. I hiss at the slight pain but at the same time I dig my hand into his hair to keep his head in place as another wave of pleasure washes over me.  
We stay entwined like that until our heartbeats even out a little, then slowly disentangle our limbs.

"Fuck, I needed that," I admit with a shaky laugh.

"Yeah, I could tell," James grins and hands me a tissue to clean myself up. He straightens his clothes and holds out his hand to help me hop off the car when suddenly his face becomes serious. He runs a gentle finger down the side of my neck. "Ah, shit," he curses softly.

"What is it?"

Instead of answering, he leads me round the hood and points at the exterior mirror. "See for yourself."

Slightly puzzled I lean forward and instantly see what he means. There's a perfect imprint of his teeth on my skin where my neck meets my shoulder. "Well, ah shit indeed," I state. "We needn't have bothered to get away from everyone. If this doesn't scream We've just fucked I don't know what does."

"Don't panic. You'll just have to cover it up," James says, already pulling the elastic from my ponytail. "There," he says, smoothing my long hair over my shoulder, "if you keep it like that, no-one's the wiser."

"Yeah, that could work. It has to, I guess," I sigh, even though I know I'll have to consciously keep myself from brushing my hair back, simply because I'm not used to not wear it tied back in some way.

"Okay?" James asks, giving me a critical once-over, before answering his own question with a satisfied nod. "Let's get back before the kids start a search party."

 

As it turns out, his concern isn't unwarranted, even though it's not the kids that detect us. We haven't made it further than a dozen steps from the car barn when a yelping, lightning-fast ball of fur shoots across our path, almost tripping me over in its eagerness to get to James.  
"Hey, little buddy," James coos, crouching down to pet what turns out to be the head of a young dog. "Annika, meet the newest addition to the family, Gunther."

I laugh. "Seriously, Gunther? I once had a history teacher named Gunther."

"Well, I hope he was one of the good ones, cause this little fellow sure is."

"He's certainly a lot cuter," I grin and bow down myself to scratch a furry, black ear. As I hear some-one getting closer, I quickly straighten up again and comb my hair over one shoulder to hide the blossoming bruise.

Castor's jogging up to us, a frisbee in his hand. "There you are, you crazy dog. Hi, Annika, I didn't know you're already here." He hugs me with one arm, holding the dog-slobbered frisbee as far away from my dress as possible. "Dad, I really think you need to talk to that breeder. He's sold you a dog with no brains."

"No wonder the two of you get along so well, then," James teases, while Gunther tries to catch the frisbee as he jumps up and down in front of Castor.

We walk back to the house and while James and Castor stay on the lawn, trying to tire Gunther out between them, I step into the kitchen to see if I can help preparing dinner.

 

Marcella looks up from the vinaigrette she's preparing. "Hey, you let your hair down. I like it," she smiles innocently while Fran almost chokes on her laugh at the unintended double meaning.

"Thanks," I smile back at her as inculpably as I can.

I turn towards Fran, concentrating hard not to give anything away. Fran's eyes turn wide and I know she's noticed the reason for my new hairstyle.

Biting her lips, she slightly shakes her head. "Stupid," she mouths.

I acknowledge the sentiment with a hint of a nod and a shrug. The damage is done, and there's nothing more I can do about it now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My musings are interrupted by a bump against my knee. I smile. Sam, the calico family cat, has sneaked up on me. "Hey, Sammy, how are you today?" I coo and reach out a hand to pet her. But Sam ducks underneath my fingers and makes a beeline for the patio door. "Oh, just came around to tell me you're pissed at me, too, did you?"

Fran gives me a look I can't read, but it's not very pleased. 

"Where's Cali tonight?" I ask, aiming for a safe topic of conversation. 

"Celebrating a friend's birthday," Marcella answers over the noise of the mixer Fran’s started. "Who would have thought dad would finish today? I can hardly remember what it was like the last time they released an album. That's more than half my life ago." 

"That's true, I guess," I laugh. I for my part can remember the apprehension I shared with a lot of fans before the release of _Death Magnetic_ only too well. And the relief when it sounded nothing like _St. Anger_.  
I was still living with Dara in Dublin back then, but I hurriedly push back those memories.

"Annika, can you hand me that bowl, please," Fran says, turning my attention to the green pulp she's been mixing. Guacamole, I guess. 

"Sure."

It happens so fast, I don't even see it coming, but I'm quite sure Fran has planned it exactly the way it plays out. As I step closer to place the bowl next to her and she turns to fill the mash from the mixer into the bowl, she somehow manages to transfer half of the content onto my dress. 

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit! I'm so sorry, Annika," she exclaims, already wiping at my dress with a kitchen towel, while I'm still dumbfoundedly staring at the mess. I wipe a splotch from my arm and taste it. Yep, guacamole. 

Marcella giggles, but still tries hard to look dismayed at the accident.

Fran grabs my arm with one hand, throwing the soiled towel into the sink, and drags me with her. "Come on, we need to soak this dress, or the stain will set." 

She leads me into the master bedroom and orders me to strip. 

I grin while I do as I'm told, it's hardly the first time I'm half naked in this room, but it's the first time I take off my clothes for Fran. She does not seem to find it very amusing. 

It's hard to tell, since she's still trying to hide it and I've never seen her pissed before, but I'm pretty sure she is, now. 

"Now let's see what we can do to cover that... spot on your neck," she says and opens the door that I know leads first into James' and then her walk-in-closet, which are actually large enough to be used as bedrooms.  
Scanning the clothes rail, she purposefully reaches for an item. It's a burgundy silk cheongsam with a black and gold cherry blossom pattern. "This should do the trick. It's maybe a bit shorter on you but it should still fit."

I shake my head in amazement. "How come you always know exactly what to do?" I wonder. 

Fran looks at me with a lopsided smile. "You think I do?" She shakes her head. "If only that was true."  
She helps me into the dress and gives a short, satisfied nod as she closes the hook and eye on the high neck collar.  
"There. Now we're safe."

"This is perfect!" I say as I look into the mirror. The high collar covers the bruise completely and even though I can't quiet fill the top, the dress looks beautiful. I turn around and fling my arms around Fran. "Thanks."

Fran lightly pats my back. "What's mine is yours, I thought you knew that," she says in a strange tone of voice. 

I immediately release her from my embrace to look at her. She smiles, but it doesn't quiet reach her eyes.

"Come on, let's get back downstairs."

"Fran?"

But she just continues through the flight of rooms and down the stairs as if she hasn't heard me.

James is waiting for us at the foot of the stairs. "What have you two been up to?" he asks with a grin. The he notices the new dress I'm wearing. "Oh... I see. You look nice in that, too."

I can't see the look Fran gives her husband, but it's enough to make his grin disappear and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

"I agree we have to tell the kids at one point, but _not_ like this," she hisses and pushes past him. 

"Hey, now, wait a second..." James grumbles and gets hold of her elbow. 

Fran stops, looks down on his hand holding her and then up to meet his eyes with a stare so full of fury it makes me take a cautious step back. 

Slowly, James releases his grip. "We'll talk about this later."

"Dad? Can we start the BBQ now?" Castor walks in from the patio, blissfully unaware of the fight that was about to break loose.

With another hard look at Fran, James turns. "I'm coming."

Fran turns on her heels, too, and heads for the kitchen, leaving me on my own on the last step of the stairs. I let out a deep breath and sit down. 

I'm not really sure what's going on, but I'm convinced it's not only about the mark on my neck. _You always knew this day would come,_ a gloomy voice inside me whispers, _it was great while it lasted._

Another thought occurs to me.  
_I agree we need to tell the kids at one point._ She wouldn't have said that if she wanted to end things. Or would she?

My musings are interrupted by a bump against my knee. I smile. Sam, the calico family cat, has sneaked up on me. "Hey, Sammy, how are you today?" I coo and reach out a hand to pet her. But Sam ducks underneath my fingers and makes a beeline for the patio door. "Oh, just came around to tell me you're pissed at me, too, did you?"

I heave another sigh. Somehow, I'd expected this evening to be more fun.

For the next thirty minutes I manage to avoid Fran by setting the table outside while she’s keeping herself busy inside the kitchen.

James and Castor prepare the meat for the barbecue and both seem perfectly happy and relaxed. 

When Fran finally emerges together with Marcella, she still avoids looking at James or me, but at least acts normal enough that I'm beginning to hope, the evening will not end in a complete disaster. 

"Can you pass me the ketchup, Anni?" 

I wince a little at Castor's innocent question. "Please don't call me that," I ask as I hand the bottle over. "It brings back bad memories."

Fran lets out an impatient huff, causing James to set down his soda. Hard.  
James shoots Fran an angry look. "Let's get downstairs. _Now_ ," he says, already getting up from his chair. 

Fran throws her napkin onto the table and pushes her own chair back so forcefully it gives a loud screech of protest.

I can see Castor and Marcella exchange a worried look. 

"What was that?" I ask reluctantly.

"They're going into daddy's studio," Marcella says as if that would explain everything.

"It's soundproofed, you know. They get in there when they don't want us to hear them yelling at each other. Or sometimes to have sex, I guess," Castor adds with a tiny grin.

"Eww, Cas!" Marcella protests with a giggle.

"Never mind, Cel, you can bet your right arm they're fighting today, not fu... uhm, sorry."

"What do you think how long they'll stay in there?"

Castor shrugs. "Hard to tell. Could be ten minutes, could be an houe..."

After twenty minutes, I lose my nerves. "Well, whatever the outcome, I doubt that my being here will improve the situation today. I'll head home."

The fact that Castor and Marcella give only a token protest, being the polite kids they are, shows me they agree. 

"But you'll come back soon, won't you?" Marcella asks as she hugs me goodbye.

"Of course. I'll have to return the dress, or your mom will think I'm trying to steal it from her."

Castor chuckles. "If she even remembers she lent it to you. Lars always tells her to use an Excel sheet to keep track." 

But I'm not so worried about the dress. I'm much more afraid the loan period of her friendship might have expired tonight. And I remember what I've thought when I first met her: That I never wanted to get on her bad side. I wonder if I've already crossed that line.


	3. Chapter 3

I hardly ever drink on my own, but as soon as I get home, I pour myself a glass of red wine, whishing I had something stronger. The wine is almost exactly the same colour as the dress and all of a sudden, I feel the urgent need to get out of it. Still I force myself to carefully peel the expensive silk off. Tearing the dress would just be adding insult to injury. I'm less careful with my underwear, managing to painfully scrape a bra hook across my back. 

"Ah, fuck!" I curse under my breath. I get into the bathroom and twist around to assess the damage in the mirror. Nothing too bad, at least the skin didn't break. Maybe it'll match the bruise on my neck tomorrow. I slip on my soft cotton night shirt and empty my glass. Deciding that one glass of wine will not do the trick, I wander back into the kitchen to pour another one. The screen of my mobile lights up with a new text.

JH: U ok?

I allow myself to empty half of the glass before I reply: Guess so. U?

JH: Same. Sorry bout tonight. Still don't know what's going on.

AR: Good luck figuring out. Off 2 bed.

Not waiting for his reply, I switch the phone off and toss back the rest of the wine. I don't want to be rude to James, who definitely doesn't need his lover bitching at him for no apparent reason when his wife's already done that. But I find I have no energy left for an elaborated chat.

Before I go to bed, I dig into my wardrobe for something that'll cover up the mark on my neck less obviously than the clich‚ silk scarf. Much to my surprise I come up with a bottle green tie neck blouse with short puffed sleeves and polka dots that I had completely forgotten. Who would have thought that something still could go right tonight.

The next day I'm not in my best mood, and of course Glenn and Jessica notice. They do not comment on it, but I notice the looks they exchange.   
Repeatedly I have to remind myself I'm not working in Ireland anymore, where the occasional heartfelt curse is much more socially accepted than in the U.S. and during the weekly meeting of our department I hardly hear a word of what's being said. 

About ten minutes into the meeting my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. And doesn't stop. After a minute or two, Jess leans towards me.   
"I hope it's at least going to improve your mood," she whispers with a tiny grin. 

I roll my eyes at her, reaching into my pocket to switch the vibration off. A glimpse on the screen tells me, it's Fran calling. And that piece of information does nothing to improve my concentration. For the next twenty minutes my mind is racing alongside my heart. Both Fran and James roughly know my schedule and none of them has ever called outside my usual break. What on earth could she want so urgently?

As soon as everyone is getting ready to leave the conference room, I get out my phone. I've got _eleven_ calls from Fran and the phone already starts buzzing again. 

I'm not sure what to make of this, but I'm certain I'll want to be alone when I answer it. So I hang back a little and slip into the first quiet corner I find.  
With my heart throbbing somewhere close to my throat, I call her back. 

"Annika, thank God!" her voice is so shaky I hardly recognise it. "James has had an accident..."

I don't even know how I made it back to the office, but as soon as I step through the glass door, Jessica rushes round her desk. "Annika, you look as if you've seen a ghost! What happened to you?"

I need a moment to pull myself together enough to talk. By the time I'm able to open my mouth she's reached me and places both hands on my shoulders, staring at me with deep worry.   
"I... I need to go... To the hospital. There's been an accident..." and with that I burst into tears, as the memory of the day of the car crash that killed my parents and my younger sister becomes overwhelming, adding to and mixing with the worries about James.

Fran couldn't tell me what happened, since she was still on her way to the hospital herself. All she knew was that James has had an accident with his bike on his way to HQ.

Jessica presses down on my shoulders until I'm sitting in one of the visitors' chairs. "You're shaking like a leaf. You're not going anywhere in this state," she says matter-of-factly. 

I immediately jump up again, forcing my tears away. "I've got to go."

Glenn shakes his head. "Jess is right. One of us can take you, or we'll call a taxi. But you won't be driving. And that is an order." He hardly ever pulls rank, but as the head of our small team, he is my superior. At least in all things work-related.

"You cannot give me an order like that."

"I just have."

Knowing there's no point in arguing, I take a split-second to weigh my need for discretion against my urgent wish to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. "Okay," I consent and hand my keys to Glenn. 

He nods. "Get your things, I'll just go and tell Gavin."

Gavin is the head of our department and of course he has to know if two of his co-workers leave all of a sudden. 

"I've got everything I need. Let's go."

Gavin's desk is on our way out and he doesn't ask any questions. Instead, he just reaches into his pocket and throws Glenn his car keys. "Take my car. It'll be faster. But no scratches, you hear me?"

"Thanks, Gav!" 

Even with Gavin's car it takes more than an hour to reach the hospital. Just as Glenn pulls up outside, my phone buzzes with a text. 

FH: He's gonna be all right. Room E 2010.

"Oh, thank God," I whisper.

Glenn looks at me. "Good news?"

I nod. "Thanks for driving me, Glenn. And please thank Gavin again for the car. "

Glenn grins. "Off you go. Give my regards to your mystery man."

As I step into the room, James is sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and Fran is assisting him in pulling his plaited shirt over his bandaged rib cage. He looks up with surprise, but his slight smile is chased away by concern as I can't help bursting into tears again. Without bothering to close the door, I rush over to him and hug him close.

James winces. "That kinda hurts right now, honey."

"Sorry." I loosen my hold slightly but don't let go of him, burying my nose into his short hair as deeply as I can. "I was so scared," I whisper, "I was so fucking scared I'd lost you, too."

James brings up one arm to gingerly return the hug and next to me, I can hear a low groan from Fran. "Ah fuck," she curses, and the use of the word alone tells me how shaken she still is. She lays a gentle hand on my arm. "I'm sorry, Annika, I didn't think... That was selfish of me."

"Really, Fran," James sighs, carefully pulling back enough to look at his wife, "you can be such a klutz sometimes..."

For a moment I fear, she'll snap at him like she did last night, but it seems that she whatever bothered her then is no longer important.

"Says the man who fell off his bike," she teases gently. 

"No, no, no! I'm glad you called!" I transfer my embrace from James to Fran. "I really am. I'd want to know, if." I swallow back fresh tears and Fran hugs me back. 

"I know," she murmurs. 

"For the record: I did not 'fall off' my bike just like that," James grumbles good-naturedly. 

I wonder if his good mood is from the drugs he's been given or if he's just glad to see Fran and me being on the same page again. 

"No?" Fran prompts.

"Something. I guess it was a stray dog, shot across the road. I tried to avoid it when it suddenly changed direction. I changed direction, too, but the bike didn't. The dog got clean away."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I smile. 

James raises his brows. "Hey, _I_ got a concussion, a broken rib, a bruised shoulder and stitches from the heel of my hand up to the first joint of my ring finger," he holds up his bandaged left and turns towards Fran. "They cut my ring from my finger. I hate it when they do that." 

"Well, Castor did give you gloves for one of your birthdays," Fran reminds him.

James sighs. "I know, I know. I'll just have to hunt them down. Still, if it hadn't been for that stupid dog."

"It could have been much worse," I say, and Fran runs her fingers gently through his hair. "Will they keep you here?"

"Yeah, at least for the night."

Fran nods. "I'll get you some things. Do you have the ring? I can have it fixed."

 

"How's James?" Glenn asks as soon as I've closed the glass door behind me.

I nearly drop my bag. "Huh?"

"So it is him. It's in the papers this morning," Glenn says, nodding towards the newspaper on Jessica's desk. "And suddenly it all made sense." 

I walk over to my desk and boot up my computer without answering or even looking at either of them.

"That must be pretty complicated," Jess puts in, tapping the paper, "I read he's married with children." 

I'm not sure whether I'm being paranoid, but I think I can hear her disapproval.

I know they are not going to let me get out of this conversation, not when they finally have a clue to go on. So I finally give in with a deep sigh.  
"His wife knows. It was her who called me yesterday. And to answer the initial question, he's going to be fine."

Jessica stares at me open-mouthed. "She. Wow. What kind of relationship is this?"

I can't suppress my chuckle at her dumbfounded expression. "Like you said, a pretty complicated one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James leans his forehead against mine. "Sorry," he murmurs, "I didn't mean to use you like that. I couldn't stop myself."
> 
> I kiss his lips. "You're kidding, right? That was one of the hottest things we ever did..."

James is released from hospital a day later. I would have loved to be there, but I know that for the next few days, he only belongs to his kids and his wife.

On Friday afternoon, however, he calls me up. "The kids have gone away for the weekend, they're staying with various friends, or so they've told us," he chuckles, then let's his voice drop a register into a seductive whisper. "It'll be adults only... Come over?"

"Won't Fran mind?"

Changing his voice back to normal again, James asks: "Why would she? Yeah, okay, I know she's been... weird the last time, but that wasn't your fault. She's just been a bit short-tempered lately."

"Maybe I can appease her with the dress she's lent me."

James laughs. "Well worth a try."

 

He answers the door, before I've got the chance to ring the bell.  
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," I laugh, "you look like Justin Bieber!"

James runs his unbandaged right through his platinum blond hair and grins. "Don't you like it?"

"Hmm."

He laughs at my sceptical look.

"Well, at least it'll grow out soon enough," I say as I push past him.

"Funny," he deadpans as he closes the door behind me, "that's what Fran said." 

I turn around to look at him. "How _is_ Fran?" I ask and I can see on his face he understands my meaning. 

"Good, I guess. Nobody's been snapped at for the last 36 hours or so. If anything, she's even been a bit clingy."

"Can't say I blame her. That was a nasty fright."

James sighs and bows his head. Only now I realise that instead of the bandage he's now wearing band-aids to cover the stitches on his left hand. 

I look up at his still bowed head and smirk. "I don't know if I can get over this hair colour." 

He gives me a puppy-eyed look. "Can you kiss me anyway?"

Laughing at his hopeful face I step up to him and grant him his wish. He instantly wraps his arms around me, pulling me as close as he can without his ribs acting up.  
When our lips part, James gently runs the back of his fingers down my cheek and brushes the tip of his nose against mine. "Shall we go outside? I think Fran's somewhere in the garden."

I can't avoid thinking about the last evening we spent on this patio together, but the mood couldn't be more different.

Fran seems to be her old, warm-hearted and easy-going self and I can feel myself relax as we sit chatting and occasionally throwing a ball for Gunther. As it grows darker, James lights a few torches placed around the patio and Fran brings out candles. We eat home-made pasta and Fran and I share a bottle of wine.  
Gunther has laid down next to his master's chair and at some point, Sam, the family cat, has jumped into Fran's lap and curled up, purring softly.  
I grin and sip my wine. "God, this is so perfect, it's corny."

Fran's laugh turns into a yawn. "Gosh, nothing can put you to sleep better than a warm cat on your lap," she comments. 

James grins. "Let's all go to bed," his grin widens, "you know, I've been waiting all evening to say that."

 

Something is tickling my face. Without opening my eyes I brush a finger across my cheek to chase away the fly or whatever it is. A low chuckle is my reward and the tickling continues. I blink my eyes open and find James smiling at me as he takes another strand of my hair and runs it over the tip of my nose and down across my lips. I blow a tiny raspberry and James' chuckle turns into a soft laugh. I smile back at him and reach out to run the back of my finger along the outline of his face.

"This is nice to wake up to."

"Just what I was thinking," he answers softly. He curls my hair around his finger, dragging me closer. Careful not to touch his still tender ribs or to wake up Fran, who's sleeping nestled to James' other side, I lean in and brush my lips across his cheekbone. 

He gives a low hum of approval, his hand snaking around my body to press against the small of my back, pushing me closer against himself.

I'm laying on my side, pressed against James' left flank, my fingers idly playing with the sparse hair on his chest. His hand on my back keeps pressing me closer until I slide one leg between both of his. This earns me another low sound rumbling through his chest, his hand on my back slipping lower, until he can dig his fingers into the flesh of my ass. But it seems he's still not perfectly happy. Carefully, he disentangles his other arm from around Fran to reach for my hand and slowly push it down his chest and belly. 

A sleepy noise of protest indicates that Fran is waking up. Still half-asleep she snuggles closer to James to compensate the loss of his arm around her.

James' breath hitches as I close my fingers around him and his short gasp fully wakes up Fran. 

"Hey, babe," James purrs and reaches out to touch her face. But Fran avoids his hand, slips out of bed and leaves the room. James gives an exasperated sigh and slams his head back into his pillow. I release my hold, but keep my hand lying on the top of his thigh. 

"Aren't you going to go after her?"

"No. If she doesn't want to talk with either of us she can just as well sulk alone. Gosh, she's moodier than our teenaged kids these days." He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs out an irritated breath, then looks at me with hungry eyes, as he again guides my hand to where he wants it. 

This time, he doesn't let go of my hand and he doesn't break eye contact, either, as his larger hand covers mine, directing the pressure and tempo of my movement. His eyes are dark with desire and I find I can't look away as they bore right down to my core. His pupils dilate even further as he moves my fist a bit faster up and down his hard cock. 

I can't believe how much this turns me on. I lick at my dry lips and that causes James to finally lower his gaze to my lips before he crashes our mouths together in a feverish kiss. His hand tightens around mine until I'm afraid my grip must be almost painful for him and he growls into our kiss. 

His grip doesn't relax, though, and now his hips start pumping against our joint hands as his tongue delves deeply into my mouth, our teeth clashing audibly and our breaths becoming harsher and more ragged.  
I press myself harder against him, seeking all the friction I can get.

James left hand leaves the small of my back to dig into my hair and cup the back of my head, while his right pushes my fist down his shaft hard and fast, pausing for a moment and then moving up a little less roughly. He does that once, twice, a third time and I feel his muscles lock and his breathing stops for a second.  
Then he climaxes with a long, deep growl against my mouth, his hand on my head forcing our lips together as if he's actually trying to eat me alive, his cum hot and sticky on our entwined hands. 

 

James leans his forehead against mine. "Sorry," he murmurs, "I didn't mean to use you like that. I couldn't stop myself."

I kiss his lips. "You're kidding, right? That was one of the hottest things we ever did..."

His hand travels from the back of my head down my back. "So, you enjoyed that?" His hand slips between my legs. "Oh," his eyebrows shoot up, feigning surprise as his fingertips glide easily over my wet flesh, "it seems you did."

I let out a small whimper and press against his teasing fingers. I can feel the edge of the band-aid occasionally sticking to my skin, but in my already over-heated state it only adds to my arousal. 

"Mmh, some-one's eager," James purrs close to my ear. He knows what his voice does to me, I've told him a hundred times.  
I clutch at his neck and try to control my breathing while one of his fingertips is now softly nudging my entrance as the others still rub gentle circles over my heated flesh. 

"Fuck, James..." my voice is shaky with lust.

James gives a soft chuckle and brushes his lips over mine. "Sorry, gorgeous, I can't right now. But I can get you off another way..." He softly runs his tongue over my bottom lip and that sinful promise alone is almost enough to make me come.

Another whimper escapes me. 

His fingers leave my pussy to grip my hips, his other hand closing around my elbow and pulling me forward. 

I hasten to get into the position he wants, where I can use the headboard for balance while straddling him.

My arousal makes me clumsy and I have to concentrate to not bump my knee against his bruised shoulder or poke his broken ribs with my foot in my eagerness to get his mouth to pick up where his fingers have left off. 

But of course, it wouldn't be like James to simply do what's expected of him. He nibbles at my inner thighs with his lips, ghosts his fingertips over the small strip of hair.

"Please, James, don't tease," I beg, completely unashamed. By now, I'd do anything to get his mouth on me. 

Thankfully, my begging is enough. 

James closes his lips around my clit, sucking gently and I gasp at the sensation. With a small, but still obscene, plopping sound he releases my clit only to flick his tongue against it. 

I moan, and my fingers tighten around the headboard. He slides his tongue down and uses his right hand to spread me open for his exploring mouth. 

My head lolls back as he starts licking circles, alternating between the tip and the flat of his tongue. 

"He's good at that, isn't he?"  
My eyes fly open and I yelp as James chooses this exact moment to push two fingers inside me. My jaw clenches and every muscle in my body seems to tighten. Fran smiles knowingly and runs her hand through my hair. 

I can't answer her, I cannot even keep my eyes open to look at her. All I can concentrate on is the feeling of James gently lapping at my clit while he's pumping his fingers inside me with increasing speed and force. 

Fran's hand in my hair closes into a fist, tugging ever so lightly. "It makes it so much better when a man actually enjoys eating pussy, don't you think?"

James grunts underneath me and just like that my orgasm slams into me, hard. 

Fran pulls a little harder on my hair, the slight pain intensifying my climax even more, and I cry out, as wave after wave of pleasure crash over me.  
It's all I can do to collapse next to James instead of on top of him. 

"Fuck," I gasp. 

A chuckle in two voices is the answer.

James wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Fran curls up next to him.  
"I thought you weren't interested," he says to her.

Fran shakes her head. "I just had to take care of something," she says, "... _And_ I made breakfast."

We spend another blissful day in the park-like garden, and James shows me his beehives. At first, I'm surprised he seems to be as enthusiastic about beekeeping as he is about his cars, but the more he tells and shows me, the better I can understand his fascination.

"I must admit, I've never really thought about honey and bees and stuff," I say as I inspect the honey separator.

James laughs and gently tugs at my ponytail. "No. You just buy the stuff in the supermarket and eat it, huh?" 

I shrug. "Basically, yeah."

"Well, not anymore. Here, have a glass of Hetfield-Honey, honey."

 

 

At first, I'm not sure what's woken me up, but then I realise the whispered conversation next to me must have been going on for some time.

"Hey, you're talking to the man who freaked out at turning 50, remember?" James asks gently.

A tiny smile in her voice, Fran answers, "Yeah, I remember."

"You're not being stupid. I love Annika, I won't deny it. But that doesn't make me love you any less. If anything, the opposite's true. I love you even more for your open-mindedness and your generosity and your big heart. Because I know you love her, too. Maybe not in the same way, but certainly not in the way you love ... Chloe for instance, or your sis."

Fran lets out a long breath that sounds a little shaky. "You're right. And still... I can't help thinking ... Only sometimes... that ... she's so much younger, and beautiful..." 

James doesn't let her finish. "Sorry, babe, but _now_ you are being a bit stupid. You can't really believe that you're not every bit as beautiful, just because there are a few more lines around your eyes. Hell, I know I'm responsible for most of them - the good and especially the bad ones. I wouldn't have survived my own stupidity if it hadn't been for you. You're the mother of our three wonderful children." There's a brief pause and the mattress dips a little as he changes position, before he goes on: "You are the love of my life, never doubt that. God knows I've had my insecurities, always will have, probably. But I know one thing beyond the shadow of a doubt: I will love you till the very moment I die."

There's a pause, then Fran's whisper:  
"Show me."

Again, I can feel movement behind my back, then I hear the soft noise of tender kisses, skin gliding against skin, the rustling of pillows or bedsheets being rearranged.

I keep my eyes firmly shut and try not to listen to their gentle lovemaking. But it seems the more I try to ignore them, the more I am aware of the tiniest sounds, the shallow breaths, the short gasps of barely contained pleasure, the whispered oaths of love, and every single one is tearing on my heartstrings. 

I lie wide awake, long after both their breaths have evened out again.  
Finally, I slip out of the bed and out of the room.

Briefly I consider leaving a note. But then I imagine one of the kids finding it for some reason. So instead, I send a text to both James and Fran.

AR: I never intended to intrude into your marriage. I realise you need time to yourselves as a couple. Sorry.

Since I often try to get into the guest bedroom before everyone gets up, they'll probably not even miss me for a couple of hours. I grab my bag from the guest bedroom and take a look around, telling myself I'm only checking I've got everything. Of course, the truth is that I'm wondering when - or if - I'll come back here again. I feel a lump forming in my throat and force it down. More than anything I want James and Fran to be happy. And if they'll be happier without me, than that's the price I'm going to pay.  
At least that's what I keep telling myself as I sneak down the stairs and out of the house.  
Before I start the engine of my car, I switch off my phone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive isn't long enough for me to come up with a game plan, but it's long enough to work myself into a mild panic.
> 
> "Tea?" I ask as we all step into my apartment, trying to gain a little more time to calm my nerves.
> 
> James raises his brows. "Answers."

"So, how are you today?" My therapist looks at me, her light green eyes sparkling behind her half-moon glasses.

"Actually, that's a very good question," I sigh.  
I've been seeing a therapist ever since that gruesome evening last year in Berlin, when my lunatic ex-husband Dara turned up, planning to do God knows what and instead managing to accidentally kill himself.

Of course, I had to find a new one after I moved to the States, but after some time - and with the help of a recommendation of one of James' friends - I finally met Dr. Cameron.   
"I take it, there's no simple answer?"

"The simple answer is, I'm... not good."

"And the more elaborate answer?"

"I'm sad and frustrated and not so sure anymore I did the right thing and completely clueless what to do about it. And scared that it's too late to do anything about it, anyway."

Dr. Cameron crosses her legs at the ankles, getting ready for a long story. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

I hesitate. 

"Like I said before, nothing you tell me ever leaves this room."

"No. I know that."

"And while I don't lead the life of a rockstar, I did grow up in the San Francisco of the 1960s..."

That comment makes me smile and I start at the beginning. 

 

"So, let me get this straight," she says after I've finished my story. "Five days ago, you overheard a conversation, in which Fran explained why she acted a little ... out of character, the last time the three of you were together. And both James and Fran stated they love you. And they're both very clearly still very much in love with each other. And you haven't talked to them since then?"

She looks at me for confirmation.  
"Yes."

"Right. What I don't quite understand yet is the part where you decided to leave in the middle of the night. Why did you feel the need to do that?"

Wringing my hands, I try to put my thoughts into words, which isn't easy.   
"I didn't know Fran had this... issues with our age difference. I didn't know it makes her feel insecure."

"And you think James wasn't truthful when he told her her age doesn't matter to him?"

"No! I'm certain he's meant every word he's said."

"Then you think Fran didn't believe him?"

"I'm sure she wants to believe him, I'm just not certain she actually can."

"Because he could be lying just to make her feel better?"

Now that she says it, I realise that doesn't sound like James at all. "Well... I guess..."

"Hmm." That non-committal sound tells me she knows she's got me there.

"Yeah, okay. Fine. He wouldn't lie about something as important as that."

"But then of course, Fran doesn't know that," Dr. Cameron states. 

I hate it when she gets ironic. I'm sure it's against the professional ethics of therapists. Or should be, anyway. "Of course she knows it," I grumble. 

"So, this cannot be the reason for your leaving, the real reason," she says, "Why did you leave?"

"Like I said, because I thought they needed more time for themselves, as a couple."

"But you would have gone home anyway in a couple of hours. And it's not like they were working on their relationship. They were sleeping." She taps her pen on her ever-present notepad. "Why did you leave?"

I'm out of ready-made answers. Dr. Cameron watches me think, a patient look on her face. 

"I guess I... I kind of... I suddenly felt superfluous."

"Ah," she says, meaning 'now we're getting somewhere'. "In what way?"

"I don't know. They... they just seem so right together. And... they were never looking for a three-way relationship. It was meant to be just sex! And only for a few days..."

"But now it's been going on for more than half a year. You've left your home country, your old life... And you've become a part of their life. Does that scare you?"

I frown. "Scare me? I never thought about that. Why would it scare me?"

Dr. Cameron shrugs. "Just a thought. After all, this is the first relationship after your divorce. And when you say that Fran and James weren't looking for a three-way relationship, the same applies to you, doesn't it? I was wondering if you would have allowed yourself to get involved with James if he'd been single. If his being married wasn't your safety net."

I can practically see my eyes getting wide. "I... Uhm... I..." Shit. Maybe she has a point there.

She gives me a moment to let that thought sink in, then asks another question. "What do you think would have happened if you hadn't left in the middle of the night? Would you have addressed Fran's insecurity?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Why not? What would be the worst thing that could have happened?"  
I think about that for a while. My imagination has always been very capable of thinking up horror scenarios. But in the end, they all result in one thing: "I'm afraid that the shock of James' accident and the relief over the mild outcome just glossed over her concern or unhappiness. That it's all over and they never want to talk to me again, let alone see me," I whisper.

Dr. Cameron gives me a kind look, but the truth in her words is cold and sharp as a diamond: "And can you imagine how they've felt after you'd left?" 

I let out a deep breath to keep the threatening tears at bay. "Yes, and that's why it's _so fucking difficult_ ..."

"It'll get even more difficult the longer you put it off," she softens her tone a little. "Maybe you over-reacted a bit. Don't you think they can relate to that? Don't you think that this relationship means enough to all of you work through this? If it's not worth it to risk a few awkward situations, an apology maybe, then it cannot mean that much to you."

I know she's right, and yet I don't know how to make the first step. After all, it's not like I haven't picked up the phone dozens of times within the last few days. I even considered sending flowers during one exceedingly stupid moment. Nothing I have come up with seems to be good enough to set things right again.

 

 

Glenn switches off his screen with ostentation. "That's enough for today," he says and stretches as if he's been working crouched down in a mine all day. "Come on girls, how about a glass of cool white wine at Valentino's this fine evening?" 

"Sounds like a marvellous plan. Jess?" I turn towards her desk. Jessica is almost completely hidden behind her screen, something that seems to have become a habit in the last few days. "No," she mumbles without looking up. "I want to finish this..."

I look at Glenn and raise my brows, but he only shrugs. "Fine. See you tomorrow, then."

 

I walk to the parking lot with Glenn. "Say what you like, but Jess is cold-shouldering me ever since I told you guys about James," I say.   
I cannot deny I'm hurt by her behaviour since we've always got along so well before. And now that I'm not even sure anymore, I still have a relationship with James and Fran, Jessica's withdrawal feels even more unfair.

Glenn shrugs. "Don't take it too seriously. Jess grew up in Georgia. Her moral compass is aligned a bit differently from my Californian or your European one, I guess. And you might not know this, but Jess says she's never had sex before she married. And apparently, her husband claims the same." 

I'm still trying to get my head around that information when suddenly, Glenn points ahead with big eyes. "Wow, look at this!"

I follow his gaze and my heart stops for a second. There's no mistaking the wine-red Shoebox, even if I hadn't had sex on that very hood. 

The car-door opens, James steps out and Glenn looks at me with a sigh. "And there goes my evening at Valentino's..."

I manage a nervous smile. "Sorry, Glenn. Can I take a rain-check?"

Glenn nods with a grin and makes a shooing motion with both hands. "Off you go, I wouldn't want to piss _him_ off. I've read he's in the NRA."

 

As I walk towards the car - a hundred meters can be a very long way - the passenger door opens and Fran gets out. Somehow, that makes walking even harder.

Talk about awkward situations. There's no smiles, no hugs, let alone kisses this time.

I try a joke - and fail miserably as it comes out as an accusation.  
"Are you stalking me now?"

James shrugs. "You didn't really give us a choice, did you?"  
His face is serious, but I think I can glimpse a hint of the warmth I usually see in his eyes. But maybe I'm only imagining it because I so badly want it to be there.

 

I sheepishly shuffle my feet. "I know. I'm sorry," I mumble.

James snorts and opens his mouth to probably give me a piece of his mind, but Fran is quicker. She steps up to him and runs her hand down his forearm.

"Let's not do this here."

He nods and gives me a look I can't read. "Your place."

 

The drive isn't long enough for me to come up with a game plan, but it's long enough to work myself into a mild panic.

"Tea?" I ask as we all step into my apartment, trying to gain a little more time to calm my nerves.

James raises his brows. "Answers."

A quick smile flashes over Fran's face as she gently pushes James towards the couch. "But tea would be nice, too."

 

Ten minutes later, I place three steaming mugs on the coffee table and James immediately starts shovelling sugar into his, one, two, three spoons. He stirs quickly and then looks up from the swirling liquid, placing the spoon next to his mug. I realise he seems to be the only one who's not constantly trying to avoid eye contact.

"Now, as nice as it is to not be the one freaking out for a change, I want to get to the bottom of this. What the fuck goes on in those heads of you two?" 

Fran huffs and gives me a look of complicity, which I didn't expect. 

"Yeah, it's easy for you to talk, being the bone."

For a moment he looks at her, completely bewildered. "The bone?"

Fran impatiently waves her hand. "Two dogs fighting over one bone?"

I can't help chuckling at that, and James grins, too. "Charming," he says, covering her fidgeting hand with his larger one. He rubs his free hand over his face and shrugs.   
"I honestly don't see a problem. It's not a competition, right? I love all three of my children the same, even though they're all different from one another. I love the freedom of disappearing into the woods with nothing more than a tent and a bedroll as much as I love the comfort of a five star resort. Why can't I love both of you? Because it's not what you're supposed to do? If I've learned one thing from my twisted childhood, it's to not accept other people's truth as my own."

"The love for your children is in your DNA, whereas this," I wave my hand between the three of us, "is a matter of hormones... chemistry."

James snorts. "And what is DNA other than chemistry? Everything in this universe boils down to either physics or chemistry. You've said it yourself, you love both me and Fran." 

"I do. And that's part of the problem. I don't want to cause any trouble for either of you, let alone for your marriage." 

"So, you thought we were in trouble. Hmm..." he looks at his wife. "Are we?"

Fran hesitates for a painful moment, then shakes her head. "No. We're not in trouble... That's not the right word for..." the sentence peters out and she turns her hand underneath James', so that she can link her fingers with his. 

"Come on, Fran. You're being unfair to both me and Annika. I think we deserve an answer. And you ... well, you _did_ act... unpredictably lately. I mean, one minute you're literary telling us to go and have sex and the next you're biting our heads off for it. I think I kind of get it, but Annika can't. This - all of this - was your idea. If you've got a problem with it now, fair enough, but you need to talk about it with us."

Fran hesitates. "Remember I went to the doctor's three weeks ago?"

James' face instantly softens with worry. "You said everything's fine..."

Fran nods. "Yeah, everything's as it should be. For a woman my age."

_Oh._

It takes a bit longer for James to understand. He drops down beside Fran, taking her hand in his. "Fuck," he exhales, "don't go scare me like that, babe."

"Sorry," she murmurs and presses a quick kiss to his knuckles, "It's not really surprising, of course. I've noticed the changes for some time... And I don't know why it's such a big deal I can't have any more kids, but somehow it is and then... I don't know," she looks at me, "that bite mark... for some reason I lost it," she sighs and looks at their joint hands, then up at James, "in my head... it was as if you'd claimed Annika. I felt like you were already replacing me, because she could give you another kid and I cannot. And that thought stuck."   
James shakes his head and pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. "Just for the record: I look forward to becoming a granddad within the next ten years or so. But I'm definitely too old for another baby." He kisses her forehead, then gently raises her chin with his thumb to look into her eyes as he goes on, "I would never want to replace you. No-one could ever replace you. Not even Annika."   
He looks at me over her head, his eyes pleading me to understand. 

I squeeze between the sofa and the coffee table, so that I can stand right in front of them. Running my hand softly over her hair, I assure Fran: "I'd never want to try. I know I wouldn't stand a chance against you." I smile to let them both know there's no bitterness about this on my side. "I never expected this... affaire to develop the way it has. I guess none of us did. I've never felt more loved and I've never loved anyone more than I love both of you. But if I ever got the impression that my presence would hurt your relationship, I'd walk away, and I'd still be grateful for all that." 

"Like you tried to do just now," James softly puts in.

I sigh and look down. "Yeah."

To my endless joy, it's Fran who reaches out first to lay her hand on top of mine, before James covers both of our hands with one of his.   
"Don't do that again," she says, "don't just slip away."

James squeezes our hands. "I think we need to talk more in this relationship. We've been fucking like bonobos - which is great..." he grins as both Fran and I laugh, "we should definitely keep doing that. But we need to talk about stuff, too. Annika's right. Things have evolved far beyond any point we expected. I don't know where we'll go from here, but I'm sure we've got something special, something good." 

"I agree. And if it's any consolation," I turn to Fran, "I never wanted to have kids."

Fran looks up to me, her eyes both tearful and incredulous. "What? Why the hell not?"

Her exclamation makes me laugh. "I can hardly manage my own life. I wouldn't want to take on the responsibility for a baby."

Fran snorts. "Nonsense. No-one's ever ready to take on the responsibility before the baby's born. I bet you'd be a great mom."

"Hey, now stop it, Fran! The only available candidate would be James and we've already established that none of us wants that, right?"


End file.
